"so i was not lost or found"
Dec. 12th, 2005 05:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omnia_mutanturOnce again, gah.
I've got this long introspective post that I'm trying to write about the nature of narrative as relates to my life, which is sort of clarifying (among other things) that this doesn't feel like an entirely safe space to me. Which isn't news exactly, but is still a bit of a weird realization (though the weirdness mostly comes from me caring) It's alsoo a little bit about the maddening ambiguity of audience livejournal affords. So, instead, I'll write the prosy things I want to write, and let the other stuff stew, and try and figure out why I don't want to say what I'm honestly feeling here.
A full weekend, I think, with some bumps. A snow day (a code black, to be specific, which is a weather emergency in hospital parlance) let me off work early on Friday, but miscalculations on the egg front kept me from making the intended cookies. So we had a lazy day, venturing out only to buy cat food (all three of the cats have mastered the art of driving me near-to-breaking with pitiful noises when the food bowl is empty) . I got restless, as I often do, but Light handled me well, as he often does. The next day was post office to mail the cards, and then purchasing our Christmas tree. (a topic which I discovered, to my chagrin, makes me wretchedly defensive if criticism is offered). I'm feeling a little bit more attached to this tree than is entirely healthy, because I think I feel about it more the way one normally feels about newly acquired pets, rather than soon-to-die plants. I keep hugging it, because it's the perfect size to hug, about five feet tall, and I can just get my arms around it without too much greenery-squishing, and I don't want to decorate it, because that will interfere with its sheer cuteness, and I want to buy an instacamera in order to have photographic proof of its existence, a feeling that I've only had with kittens and the house when it was new.
The rest of the day was cookies and conversation with Tulip, and seriously, I want to hang out with her (and them) All The Time, which is still an amazingly neat feeling. And then dinner at the new middle eastern place in that block of shops behind the parking lot (which is in fact on Conz Street) with unremarkable hummus, but fantastic falafel, and then hot tubs and massage, which was awesome, but also caused a little bit of a financial freak out, something I'd already been made edgy about from an entirely different direction.
Sunday was Target for a secret santa present for work (I tripped and fell and purchased a copy of cabin fever, which is certainly worth all five dollars and fifty cents because it is so fantastically disgusting), grocery shopping, Narnia and then a homemade version of Kung Pao Tofu. We watched Death to Smoochy, and he ironed his work shirts for the new job he's starting today, and he is incredibly jumpable looking in button down shirts, even if I feel a little guilty for fetishizing business wear.
Narnia was decent. Somehow, it was less shiver-inducing than the trailers, but Jadis was splendidly costumed, the gryphons' tails were awesome and Aslan's speeches only made me punch Light's thigh a couple times. Disconcertingly enough, every time the little frog faced girl cried, I teared up myself (except at Aslan's death, 'cause then she just looked like she was doing face calisthenics). And I kind of want a polar bear chariot.
I've got an ambitious list of things to accomplish tonight, and it looks like that there won't be much pause for breath until sometime mid next week, but Light and I have decided to have our very own holiday on Christmas Eve, which will consist of cookie-baking, present-opening, and hopefully king kong-viewing, and then drive out to my parents the following morning, and the sheer volume of my relief about having something to look forward without any reservation highlights how much trouble I was/am having with this holiday season.
But in five weeks, I'll be thirty and on the other side of all the holidays, and I'm planning on enjoying this next decade more than I've enjoyed any of the three before it, probably exponentially so if these things are quantifiable, and I'm hoping that thought will take me calmly through the upcoming wedding, the horror I have of introducing Light as done by my family and the stress of figuring out what the exactly right thing to do with either New Year's or my birthday proper, and maybe this infuriating desire for a drink or a cigarette (or fourteen) will fade when the stress does.
I've got this long introspective post that I'm trying to write about the nature of narrative as relates to my life, which is sort of clarifying (among other things) that this doesn't feel like an entirely safe space to me. Which isn't news exactly, but is still a bit of a weird realization (though the weirdness mostly comes from me caring) It's alsoo a little bit about the maddening ambiguity of audience livejournal affords. So, instead, I'll write the prosy things I want to write, and let the other stuff stew, and try and figure out why I don't want to say what I'm honestly feeling here.
A full weekend, I think, with some bumps. A snow day (a code black, to be specific, which is a weather emergency in hospital parlance) let me off work early on Friday, but miscalculations on the egg front kept me from making the intended cookies. So we had a lazy day, venturing out only to buy cat food (all three of the cats have mastered the art of driving me near-to-breaking with pitiful noises when the food bowl is empty) . I got restless, as I often do, but Light handled me well, as he often does. The next day was post office to mail the cards, and then purchasing our Christmas tree. (a topic which I discovered, to my chagrin, makes me wretchedly defensive if criticism is offered). I'm feeling a little bit more attached to this tree than is entirely healthy, because I think I feel about it more the way one normally feels about newly acquired pets, rather than soon-to-die plants. I keep hugging it, because it's the perfect size to hug, about five feet tall, and I can just get my arms around it without too much greenery-squishing, and I don't want to decorate it, because that will interfere with its sheer cuteness, and I want to buy an instacamera in order to have photographic proof of its existence, a feeling that I've only had with kittens and the house when it was new.
The rest of the day was cookies and conversation with Tulip, and seriously, I want to hang out with her (and them) All The Time, which is still an amazingly neat feeling. And then dinner at the new middle eastern place in that block of shops behind the parking lot (which is in fact on Conz Street) with unremarkable hummus, but fantastic falafel, and then hot tubs and massage, which was awesome, but also caused a little bit of a financial freak out, something I'd already been made edgy about from an entirely different direction.
Sunday was Target for a secret santa present for work (I tripped and fell and purchased a copy of cabin fever, which is certainly worth all five dollars and fifty cents because it is so fantastically disgusting), grocery shopping, Narnia and then a homemade version of Kung Pao Tofu. We watched Death to Smoochy, and he ironed his work shirts for the new job he's starting today, and he is incredibly jumpable looking in button down shirts, even if I feel a little guilty for fetishizing business wear.
Narnia was decent. Somehow, it was less shiver-inducing than the trailers, but Jadis was splendidly costumed, the gryphons' tails were awesome and Aslan's speeches only made me punch Light's thigh a couple times. Disconcertingly enough, every time the little frog faced girl cried, I teared up myself (except at Aslan's death, 'cause then she just looked like she was doing face calisthenics). And I kind of want a polar bear chariot.
I've got an ambitious list of things to accomplish tonight, and it looks like that there won't be much pause for breath until sometime mid next week, but Light and I have decided to have our very own holiday on Christmas Eve, which will consist of cookie-baking, present-opening, and hopefully king kong-viewing, and then drive out to my parents the following morning, and the sheer volume of my relief about having something to look forward without any reservation highlights how much trouble I was/am having with this holiday season.
But in five weeks, I'll be thirty and on the other side of all the holidays, and I'm planning on enjoying this next decade more than I've enjoyed any of the three before it, probably exponentially so if these things are quantifiable, and I'm hoping that thought will take me calmly through the upcoming wedding, the horror I have of introducing Light as done by my family and the stress of figuring out what the exactly right thing to do with either New Year's or my birthday proper, and maybe this infuriating desire for a drink or a cigarette (or fourteen) will fade when the stress does.
